


Aulia & Haidrul’s Enchanted Weapons and Wares

by ziskandra



Category: Original Work
Genre: Brief Partial Nudity, Coming Out, Fantasy, Gen, Gender Norms, Male-Female Friendship, platonic physical intimacy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27879113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ziskandra/pseuds/ziskandra
Summary: It’s a simple name for a basic store with a novel premise.(Or: the two elderly eponymous proprietors weave the tale of how they overcame societal expectations to go into business together.)
Relationships: Daughter of a Blacksmith & Son of a Witch
Comments: 7
Kudos: 4
Collections: Heart Attack Exchange 2020





	Aulia & Haidrul’s Enchanted Weapons and Wares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Requiem](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Requiem/gifts).



_Aulia & Haidrul’s Enchanted Weapons and Wares. Est. 234 PTF_

There was no better place for a young soldier to purchase their new supplies before setting off on adventure. The eponymous proprietors had been in business for over fifty years: larger-than-life Aulia with her booming laugh and crinkling eyes, tiny wizened Haidrul with his prominent stoop and gnarled fingers, curled atop his cane. They treated all their customers like family for they’d never had any children of their own. The village was their family, they said; there were none who passed through the sleepy streets of Beema without being welcomed into the warmth of their hospitality, nor without hearing the story of their store and how it had come to be.

Aulia, from a family of blacksmiths and seven older brothers, and Haidrul, the only child of the late village witch, a line ended through black magic, bickering and feuds.

Kamaria was only the last in a recent string of adventurers to be heading east to attend to the dragon invasion, attending to her duty to country as well as hopefully returning home with some glory should she be successful in her mission. She, too, was the youngest of eight, and felt an immediate kinship with the woman who had invited her to stay in her home before she continued her journey come daylight.

“Are you going to bore this guest, too?” asked Haidrul, but there was no rebuke in his words, a gentle smile instead settling on his face, deep beneath the wrinkles. Kamaria supposed he had been handsome once upon a time, back in his youth.

She quickly finished off the rest of her porridge, setting her bowl and utensils neatly away from her. “I’m not bored,” she reassured the pair.

Aulia grinned. “Then, let us tell you a story.”

*

Aulia paced back-and-forth in front of Haidrul, the room silent except for the sound of her bare feet against the concrete. The two friends had known each other for many years, for Haidrul’s mother had helped Aulia’s give birth to her. Haidrul understood Aulia’s moods better than his own and thus knew there was nothing to be said to her when she was in this sort of way. She would stew, she would process, and then she would shout.

Ah. Her hands were starting to clench into fists. Soon, it would begin.

“I can’t believe my father wants me to get married,” she complained, ever-moving. “As though I have ever showed any interest in such a venture!”

It was true. Haidrul could not imagine Aulia as a wife, with all the trappings that entailed. But she was nearing twenty, and it was common – customary, almost – for women her age to marry, if they didn’t join the army. And joining the army when one had grown up in a small village like Beema was a foolish proposition, if one did not have a death wish. Calling it an army was generous. It was a militia, at best, and they could not even supply their soldiers with equipment. At least if Aulia, of all people, were to pursue such a path, she could have the finest weaponry on the island.

But they had lost enough good people over the past few decades, in the recent wars, and Haidrul could understand Aulia’s reticence. She didn’t want to follow in her mother’s footsteps.

“What is the point of this life,” Aulia continued, content in using Haidrul as a silent sounding board, “if I cannot choose my own destiny? If I despise all the choices before me, then I will create new, better options!”

It sounded very noble. Optimistic, even. But Haidrul knew that if anybody was capable of achieving such a lofty goal, it was his best friend. He expected his suggestion to fall on deaf ears, but he made it anyway. “Are you going to ask your father to take you on as an apprentice?”

Aulia snorted, swinging her long plait over her shoulder. “No. Don’t be stupid. I know more than any of his new ones do. That would simply make too much _sense,_ so of course he wouldn’t agree.” Her voiced canted lower, an approximation of her father’s. “Auli, you’re too pretty to sit by the forge fires all day. Don’t want your muscles getting too large, _girl_.” She snorted. “Ugh, he disgusts me.”

None of this was particularly new news to Haidrul. Aulia had been complaining about her father’s intentions for some months now. He made a contemplative noise at the back of his throat and Aulia whirled on him.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s been getting worse lately, hasn’t he?” ventured Haidrul.

“Well, yeah,” Aulia answered, twirling the ends of her hair around a finger. “But I figured he was simply getting old.”

“When was the last time you had your house cleansed?” Haidrul asked. It was a stupid question, really. With his mother’s sickness taking hold, he knew it had been many months since the smithy and its attached living spaces had been properly attended. Aulia’s family was loyal to the village – not the type to seek the services of another village’s witch, unlike so many of the other households in the area. Not that Haidrul could blame them. Nobody wanted to live in a haunted house.

Aulia stared at him. “You _know_ it’s been a while,” she said, her surprise soon settling into a frown. “You think the spirits are making him restless?”

“Yes,” Haidrul answered. It was an obvious enough conclusion to him, anyway. Spirits were drawn to discord and disharmony, tending to perpetuate it in turn. It could become a vicious cycle, which was why so many sought the intervention of a witch’s services.

If Aulia had been anyone else, Haidrul wouldn’t have opened himself up to the potential criticism. But he trusted her, so he added, “Not only him.” Nonetheless, he still braced himself for a tirade. At least it would be grounded on him daring to presume Aulia’s mood and not nested in the implications of how he wasn’t a real witch, would never be one, and wasn’t his mother disappointed that her only child was a boy? 

Instead of growing more enraged, however, Aulia deflated. “Well, what am I meant to do now, then? I can’t just…” The suggestion of seeking outside help died on her lips. “Father would never agree. _I_ would never agree.”

Haidrul was silent, still sitting cross-legged on Aulia’s bed as she continued to pace before him. She must have found something suspect in the gesture for she paused, whirling on Haidrul once more.

“Why are you so quiet?” she asked.

Ah. It seemed as if she desired some echo from her sounding board after all. Haidrul smiled. “I can help,” he said, and it was a true testament to how much he trusted her that he made the offer in the first place.

Fortunately, there was no anger in Aulia’s eyes any longer. Only relief. “Could you? Please?”

The corners of Haidrul’s lips quirked upward further still, until he was outright grinning. “Only if doesn’t bother you that I’m not a real witch.”

Aulia laughed. “It has never bothered you that I’m not a real blacksmith,” she answered in reply, and Haidrul simply nodded. Why would it bother him, when she had made him the most perfect set of knives he’d ever owned? He stretched out his legs, slowly ambling to his feet. He reached out for Aulia’s hand with one of his own. “Come,” he murmured. “Let us prepare for our task.”

*

Throughout Aulia’s rendition of the tale, Haidrul had shuffled back and forth between the back kitchen and the table, filling up their teacups and bringing out an assortment of cakes and other desserts. The climate here was drier than it was back west, and Kamaria supposed that was why the sweets had a tacky feel to them. What did they put in them to help them keep their adhesion and avoid unwanted desiccation? It was almost like honey, but not quite. Nonetheless, still delicious.

Not that she was focused overly much on the food as she was enraptured by the low, confident timbre of the old woman’s voice, reflecting upon a time when she must have been younger than Kamaria herself was now. She took a few sips to wash down the cake. “I was never one for marriage, myself,” Kamaria said with a shrug. “Hence…”

“These are different times, child,” Haidrul said, not unkindly. “Back then, there had been no dragons to steal from.”

“Well,” Aulia added, “the dragons were still there. But they had yet to move into our territories and amass their wealth. There was more magic back then to protect us.”

A sad look passed over Haidrul’s eyes. “Yes. There was.”

It lined up with what Kamaria knew from her own experiences, in her own hometown. There were hardly any witches left, none that still adhered to the old ways, anyhow. People had needed to innovate since those days, much like the pair before had done.

Kamaria reached for another piece of cake. As she leaned across the table, she asked, “So, what did you do next?”

Haidrul still had the same wistful expression on his face as he answered. “We went to speak with my mother, of course.”

*

Beema was not a large village. Within fifteen minutes, Aulia and Haidrul made the journey to the house Haidrul shared with his mother. It was dirtier than Aulia remembered it being the last time she’d visited. Perhaps the charms were failing, and Haidrul’s mother, Nurul, no longer had the physical capacity to maintain the property.

Aulia frowned. Haidrul should’ve said something. She would’ve come and cleaned.

They pushed the curtain covering the main entrance way aside. Several of Haidrul’s younger cousins were playing in the foyer. As soon as they saw him enter, they scattered out of the room, whispering. Aulia couldn’t tell what they were saying, but she knew Haidrul had his suspicions for his face darkened considerably despite his best attempts to hide it.

“I’ve set her up in the back,” Haidrul said, a hand wrapped around Aulia’s forearm. “Come on.”

Despite the dust and grime, much of the old house was the way Aulia remembered it, with its dark twisting hallways, illuminated with candles instead of windows, the only natural light coming in from the occasional door. The cloying aroma of incensed mixed with spices hung in the air, so different from the fire at the forge.

She didn’t know which one she preferred.

Soon enough, Haidrul led her to an even darker room at the end of the hall, and they entered quietly, Aulia tiptoeing behind Haidrul, always feeling large and bulky behind her small and slender friend.

“Haidrul? Is that you, boy?” Nurul’s voice sounded weak and wispy, like she wasn’t taking in enough air. Aulia didn’t like it. It seemed so strange, compared to her past memories of the village witch. She could kick herself for not visiting more often.

“Yes, Ma. I’ve bought Auli.” Haidrul gave Aulia’s hand a gentle squeeze before releasing it entirely.

Aulia surged forward, picking up one of the older woman’s hands in her own, leaning forward and pressing the back of it to her forehead. Nurul wasn’t even that old, in the grand scheme of things, but the curse that had been placed upon her that sought to end her bloodline was working its magic in dark, insidious ways. At first, it had rendered her infertile, after only having one child – Haidrul, a _son,_ a boy who could not truly inherit the power of the old ways.

And then, it had begun to kill her. Slowly, at first, but more quickly now, by the sight of things. “Aunty,” Aulia said, voice cracking, “It’s been too long.”

Nurul laughed, then coughed, then wheezed. Her gaze drifted to her son, who hung his head. “The boy is stubborn,” Nurul noted. “Doesn’t want anyone to see me. Bah!” She waved a spindly arm in the air in front of her. “Let them see! Let them see what I have been reduced to, let their regrets settle in their bones and turn them to ash once they realise the consequences of their actions!”

“Ma,” said Haidrul gently, laying a hand on his mother’s shoulder. “It’s not healthy, all this talk of revenge…”

Nurul laughed her rattling laugh once more. “ _I’m_ not healthy, or do you forget?” She placed one of her own hands over Haidrul’s. “This is my fault. I have raised my boy to be too kind.” Then, she returned her attention to Aulia. The older woman’s eyes glittered like those beetles whose shells turned iridescent in the light. “There is no force more powerful in this world than righteous anger. You know to what I refer, my daughter.”

Aulia felt like Nurul could see right through her, all her foibles and short-comings laid to bare. “I don’t – I can’t –” she mumbled.

“You don’t have to hide it,” Nurul said, settling back into the pillow Haidrul had plumped up for her. “You want to set wrongs right. So do I.” Her bony hands grabbed one of Aulia’s, brought it to her face, and kissed her knuckles. “Whatever you need my help with, child, I will provide. If it’s the last thing I do…”

“Ma,” Haidrul protested, fingers tightening against Nurul’s shoulder, “that won’t be necessary.”

She only twisted in the bed to face him, smiling once more. “You’ll see. What do you need of me?”

Haidrul provided his mother with the rundown of their problems: Aulia and her father, their bickering, the possible haunting of their house. “I won’t be able to do as well as you could, Ma,” Haidrul said, his head hung low once more, “but I want to do _something_.”

“Chin up, lad,” Nurul said, nudging her hand underneath his jaw. “You’ve let the gossips into your head again.”

“I don’t have your powers,” said Haidrul, the words whittled out of him like a grievous confession.

“There are different sorts of powers, my child,” Nurul assured him. “Your plan is sound. Avail yourself of my supplies, for they are mostly yours. You are, after all, the one who gathered them.”

Eyes damp, Haidrul pressed a soft kiss against by his mother’s temple before heading into the back storeroom which adjoined Nurul’s newfound sleeping chambers.

Aulia couldn’t say why, but she stayed behind, pressed her own soft kiss against the older woman’s head in the same place where Haidrul’s lips had lingered. Nurul reached for her arm, bony fingers wrapping around her wrist. “Take care of him for me,” she urged Aulia.

She got the feeling that Nurul wasn’t talking about just during the course of investigating the spirits in her house. Her stomach sank, more for Haidrul’s sake than Nurul’s. “I will,” she promised.

It was the least she could do.

*

“So,” Kamaria said, now nursing a mug of weak tea, closer to water than any other beverage but still somehow strangely refreshing, “you knew she was dying before Uncle did?” Here she inclined her head towards Haidrul, who had that same wistful look on his face; it had remained the entire time he had talked about his mother on her deathbed.

Aulia pursed her lips. “No. I did not know. But I was the first to accept it. I came from a large family, much like your own, child. While my mother’s passing brought me much sorrow, she was far from my entire world.” Her attention shifted to the man beside her. “For you, it was different.”

“Yes,” Haidrul admitted, voice heavy as though he had just woken up from a long sleep. “My mother meant everything to me. She protected us from the gossip from the cousins, who said I would never amount to anything because of what we were…Who I was.”

Aulia placed her own hand over the one Haidrul used to hold his cane. “Who got the last laugh in the end?” she asked. Even Kamaria could tell it was rhetorical.

Nonetheless, Haidrul still answered. Corners of his mouth quirking upwards in amusement, he replied, “We did.”

Kamaria could not help but be energised by the interaction she saw before her. She wrapped her hands around her cup of tea once more and revelled in its warmth. “I suppose you’re going to tell me about cleansing the house next,” she ventured.

Aulia smiled. “Indeed, we shall.”

*

Haidrul returned from his mother’s storeroom with three large straw bags full of supplies. Aulia eyed him curiously but did not ask any questions as he gave her the largest of the bags to carry. Even though it was the heaviest, she accepted it without complaint, perhaps aware he was doing her a favour, or perhaps her more solid build allowed her to carry the bag effortlessly.

Whatever the reason, it hardly mattered. Haidrul was just glad to have her here.

Truth be told, he’d never attempted to cleanse a house on his own before – as his aunties were so fond of telling him, he didn’t have the power. But he’d helped his mother on many occasions before her ill health interrupted her work, and he knew all the rituals which could be performed by anyone with the requisite know-how, even if they did not have that special connection to the afterworld that allowed one to commune with spirits directly.

The simplest route for a cleansing was simply to disperse the spirits back to the lands from where they came, and this was the option that most people partook in. It was the easiest, the cheapest… so long as one had the services of a witch to maintain the connection. Only a witch could commune with spirits, only a witch could contact the afterworld and _return_.

It wasn’t that everybody else couldn’t create a connection with the afterworld. It was simply that for all others, it was a one-way journey.

The solution Haidrul had in mind for Aulia’s problem didn’t require any connection to the afterworld, however. No, he fully intended for the spirits to remain here, in the realm of the living. He would just… displace them, spatially, for lack of better words. It could be done, he’d seen it before, but it was untraditional, so most people didn’t bother.

Unspeakable things would happen if spirits were trapped in the living realm for too long, his mother’s mother had once told him. But unspeakable things were happening _now_ , and before too long there would be no witches left to return spirits to the afterworld.

And then what would happen? Nobody knew for sure, so Haidrul tried not to allow himself to dwell on the long-term consequences, instead focusing on the short-term solutions.

As they made the walk back to Aulia’s family’s house, he found himself asking, “Do you have any belongings that one belonged to your mother? Jewellery? Weapons?”

Aulia hefted the weight of her bag from one shoulder to another, as though buying herself time to answer the question. “I’ve a locket,” she answered finally.

“Oh. I’ve never seen you wear it. Would you? Under the right circumstances?”

She shrugged. “You know I’ve never been one for trinkets,” she answered.

Sensing he wasn’t going to get anywhere without further expounding on his plans, Haidrul added, more anxiously than he’d like, “The reason I ask is because I think the main spirit at your house, the largest imprint, is that of your mother.”

Aulia took a deep breath and Haidrul braced himself for an incoming lecture, but all she said was, “Okay.”

“It’s just – this month is the anniversary of her death…”

They didn’t have an exact date, to the best of Haidrul’s knowledge. To hear Aulia tell the tale, they simply received a letter from the commander with only the barest detail necessary.

Aulia whipped her head around so fast she threatened to slap herself in the face with the end of her own plait. “I’m aware,” she snapped, and Haidrul was going to leave it at that for now, if he hadn’t seen Aulia’s lower lip tremble and her shoulders start to shake.

Oh. He never knew what to do in these sorts of situations, but was also aware Aulia wouldn’t mind terribly if he had the wrong response, so he dropped his bags as Aulia halted and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her chin on Haidrul’s head, and although he couldn’t see her face, or hear her cries, he could feel her tears.

As abruptly as it started, it ended, and Aulia wriggled out of his arms and he let her. She wiped at her eyes with a furious fist and asked, “So why do you need the amulet?”

“I can’t – I can’t send spirits back,” he started tentatively, “but I can put them somewhere else.”

Aulia folded her arms over her chest. “You’re going to trap my mother in a necklace for all eternity?” she asked.

“It’s not actually your mother,” Haidrul explained patiently. Just because he and Aulia had always been close growing up didn’t mean she understood these matters as intimately as he did. Everyday folk weren’t taught to appreciate the ins and outs of the afterworld properly, and in Haidrul’s honest opinion, that was a shame. “It’s part of her essence, a driving factor… anyway.” He appreciated Aulia probably didn’t want to be subjected to one of his childhood lessons. “Sealing her essence in the amulet would give her purpose, so long as you wore it regularly. Cast it aside, and she might just escape again, and we’d just have to repeat our work here.”

Haidrul picked up his bags and they continued their walk, a deep contemplative look now settling upon Aulia’s features. “Why would being in amulet worn by me give her purpose?” she asked.

He had to stare at her for a moment. His best friend could be surprisingly dense at times. “You’re her daughter.” Perhaps that wasn’t enough of an explanation, so he continued. “Perhaps being worn by any of her children would bring her some measure of peace. But Ma always said…” Oh, he hated how his voice wavered. Taking a breath to calm himself from thoughts he wasn’t ready to confront just yet, he continued, “Ma always said there was a special relationship between a mother and her daughters.”

A special relationship that his mother would never get to experience, because he was cursed to be her only child, and he was a _boy_. Not that Ma had ever made him feel bad about it, not directly, at least. She told him she was proud of him all the time, had taught him everything she knew that he could use.

But still. It wasn’t the same.

Aulia seemed comforted by the thought nonetheless, and she traced a line down the front of her chest and between her ribs. “I suppose I could get used to wearing the amulet,” she said.

*

Kamaria had lost track of the number of cups of tea she’d consumed, but somewhere between her six and seventh, Haidrul had brought out the liquor. The aroma wafting from the jug was intense: she could feel herself getting drunker just looking at it. It wasn’t like the wine they made in the large vats back in the capital. The old building they used for the distillery was said to date back from the Before times, or so she’d been taught as a child. So much of the old city was now under water, never to be seen again.

“I can see you thinking,” Aulia said, her eyes twinkling once more, “do I still have the amulet now?”

Gazing down at the table guiltily, Kamaria nodded. “Yes, aunty,” she said.

The older woman fished a necklace down from between her layers of clothing, light linens to keep her cool in the oppressive heat. Kamaria knew it would only get warmer still the further east she travelled, and she could feel her clothes sticking to herself at the very thought. She was sure when she more properly pursued Aulia and Haidrul’s wares in the morning, she might find some armor enchanted for such a purpose.

“This is indeed the same amulet,” Aulia said, before tucking the necklace away again. Haidrul placed new mugs on the table and gave each of them generous servings of the alcohol. “Ah!” she continued, lifting a finger to both indicate to Haidrul that she had enough to drink but also to continue onto her next thought, “but why did it have to be _this_ amulet, you ask?”

Haidrul smiled once more. “I believe I can explain,” he said.

*

They soon reached Aulia’s house, heading in around the back entrance so to avoid her myriad family members. Her father had never entirely approved of her bond with Haidrul, believing the boy to be bad luck, given what had happened to his family, but between his work and her siblings, he’d never had the time to actively interfere in their friendship, which suited Aulia just fine.

Haidrul paused as they crossed the threshold, dark thoughtful eyes glittering as he inspected the doorway. “You don’t have any offerings out,” he observed.

Feeling guilty, Aulia averted her gaze. “My father says that’s an old wife’s tale,” she said.

“My mother’s neither old nor a wife,” Haidrul answered mildly. Aulia was relieved to see that he was smiling. “It’s no wonder the spirits here are coming inside, if you’ve left nothing out for them. In my experience, they prefer breast milk, but small cakes, honey or tea make good alternatives.”

“ _Haidrul_ ,” hissed Aulia. It wasn’t that she wasn’t a prude. Nobody living in cramped quarters such as she could afford to be, but somehow, the thought of milk reminded her of her own shortcomings, how she would never be what society expected of her.

She didn’t want to be a mother, nor a wife, not in the way that was expected. She could never imagine sharing her life, her bed, her _body_ with a man. She wanted to be able to court one of the other village girls, the way that would be expected of her soon if her father pushed through with this insipid idea of his. _Marriage_. Would he find a man for her, she wondered? That had been done in the old days, but the witches said it was better to let women find their own matches.

But the witches were dying too, and with them, centuries of tradition.

Maybe she would have to run off and join the army, no matter what her father would say, no matter her mother’s demise.

She would soon be trapped, but at least she could choose the shape of her shackles!

So overwhelmed by her anger, Aulia almost didn’t notice Haidrul retrieve a small jar of honey from his bag and place it at the edge of the doorway. He left the lid half-open.

Aulia frowned. That way lay ants, but it wasn’t as though ants didn’t crawl through the house constantly anyway, looking for food. If it could also help draw any reticent spirits _out_ , then so be it.

“There’s a strong presence here,” Haidrul noted. “This will draw any weaker ones out, so we can focus on the one that’s causing you the most issues. Your family – they’re all busy at the moment?”

Nodding, Aulia found herself twirling the end of her plait around her fingers again. “Yes. We shouldn’t be interrupted.”

“I think we might have to enter your father’s bedroom.”

It wasn’t solely her father’s room, as he shared it with her four brothers who still lived with them, but Aulia saw no sense in correcting him. There must be a reason to his method. Perhaps her mother’s spirit or essence or whatever it was would be most drawn there. “Should I retrieve the amulet?” she asked.

“Yes,” Haidrul answered. “We can begin setting up in your room, anyway.”

They traipsed down the hallway quietly, not wanting to draw unneeded attention to themselves with their voices. Once they were in Aulia’s room, she closed the door behind them. One of the benefits to being the only female was having her own space. More proper that way, her father had decided. As though it mattered.

Haidrul set his bags down and Aulia followed suit, surprised by the solid _thunk_ it made as it fell to the floor. It hadn’t felt so heavy in her arms. He rifled through its contents and retrieved a mortar and pestle. Aulia couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. He’d made her carry that all the way from his house?

“Do you have the amulet?” Haidrul asked, business as usual. Her friend wasn’t the type to be carried away by his emotions. Not like her.

Nodding wordlessly, she walked over to the jewellery box on her dresser. That, too, had been a present from her mother. Not a hand-me-down, but intricately created, crafted, just for Aulia. Her mother had known her way around the forge as well, as Aulia was fond of reminding her father. “You’ll have beautiful things one day,” her mother had told her, “and you’ll need somewhere to keep them.”

But Aulia was not made for beautiful possessions. She was sharp edges and muscles, more sword than ceremonial dagger. The most beautiful thing she owned _was_ the locket, and that had only been a matter of circumstance.

If her mother was still alive, it would be with her, still.

As she’d been busy dwelling senselessly, Haidrul had set up shop. She was always surprised by his ruthless efficiency, and always would be. He was sitting cross-legged in his usual way, on the floor, various ingredients and other items spread before him.

Before she could even ask him what he was doing, he said, “To keep the spirit out.” He gestured at the collection of spices and herbs at his side, which he had begun to grind in the mortar, bound together by what Aulia could only assume was honey. She thought she saw nutmeg and cloves and garlic in amongst the piles, but identification of such things was not in her skillset. Her family mostly ate very simple meals.

“And to bind it.” He waved his spare hand at another pile. Saran bark and wildflowers and leaves she couldn’t identify. Looking up at her finally, Haidrul gave her an approving nod. “So that’s the amulet? Can you put it on for me?

She did. She couldn’t remember when she’d worn it last. The chain’s metal felt cool against her sweltering skin, and the pendant fell low in the valley between her breasts. Haidrul looked on curiously, and if it was anyone else, she might have felt scrutinised. But her best friend had always been like this.

“I can teach you the patterns and you can apply the paste,” Haidrul noted, “but it might be easier if I do it. I understand if you don’t—”

“You do it,” Aulia said, interrupting him before he could start over-explaining himself. “I don’t mind.”

Haidrul smiled wryly. “So long as none of your brothers walk in on us,” he commented, corners of his mouth quirking up slightly. “I’d hate to lower your marriage prospects.”

She aimed a half-hearted slap towards Haidrul’s shoulder. “Shut up. Let’s get this over with.”  
  
He nodded in return. “To work.”

*

Well, this certainly wasn’t where Kamaria was expecting the story to go. She’d started on her second glass of the strange alcohol. It felt like it smelt: _burning_. But she wanted to make the most of her adventure; who knew how numbered her days truly were? So she made no complaint, instead continuing to hear the fascinating tale being weaved by her hosts.

Brow furrowing, she said, “But you’re not _together_ , are you?” She flushed as the question left her mouth. How invasive it was! In this moment, she wished she had the darker skin of the inhabitants of the eastern isles, so she might hide her embarrassment. She didn’t quite _redden_ like those odd occasional travellers from across the great sea, but she knew there was a flush to her face that couldn’t be explained away solely by the alcohol.

Fortunately, Aulia found amusement in Kamaria’s impudence. She burst into laughter, which only caused Aulia’s cheeks to burn harder. For a moment, she thought the older woman’s guffaws would never cease. Had her query truly been so hilarious?

As the laughs died down, Haidrul’s lips quirked in his signature smile, like the world was some sort of private joke that only he was in on. “Business partners only,” he said.

Sobering, at least in manner, Aulia added, “I was married once. She is in the afterworld now.” She rubbed at a ring on her finger, and Kamaria could make an educated guess as to the implications there. It wasn’t unheard of for women to marry one another, but Kamaria hadn’t known it happened this far out east as well, less touched by the consequences of the war.

She didn’t know what to say, so the usual platitudes fell from her lips. “I’m sorry,” she said, but Aulia dismissed her apologies with a wave of her hand.

“Don’t be sorry, child. I have lived a long life. A good life. It won’t be long before my soul departs for the afterworld as well.”

“When you get to our age,” Haidrul added, “you no longer fear death, but embrace it. Complete the cycle.”

Kamaria wasn’t sure what he meant, exactly, but she couldn’t help but think it must be nice to no longer be scared. Ever since setting off on her journey and for months before, she had been terrified. Still was.

“Now that’s cleared up,” Aulia said, “I should tell you what happened next.”

*

Haidrul was so focused on preparing the rest of his ingredients, he hadn’t noticed Aulia had removed her shirt and the supporting garment beneath it. It probably was improper for them to be associating like this. They were no longer children. But he found himself not caring about the implications, even if they were discovered. People in this world were so often focused on fleeting interpersonal interactions. They had no respect for the old ways, of the rituals and connections that had existed even in the time before the time that came before.

People spoke so often of wanting to make this society a better place, to not repeat the mistakes of their forbearers, who had pillaged and plundered the resources of the world until it had collapsed under the weight of their excesses. But yet, there was rarely a thought spared for all that came _after_.

This world was only the beginning.

“Is this alright?” Aulia asked. He looked up at her. Despite the warmth of the room her skin was beginning to prickle, the hairs on her arms standing at attention. She had a hand resting on the amulet, where it lay neatly between her breasts.

“Perfect,” he answered, returning his attention to mashing up the last of the paste that would cover the necklace’s pendant, inviting the spirit of Aulia’s mother in. “You can sit down,” he added, gesturing at her bed with this spare hand.

He could feel her eyeing him dubiously. “You’re not going to get bits of bark in my sheets, are you?”

Shrugging, he answered, “If I do, I can clean it later.”

She remained standing. There was something on her mind, he could tell, and he was sure he would find out regardless of whether or not he asked. His two concoctions were now completed and separated into their different jars, and he was about to get to work when Aulia spoke abruptly. “I never told you why I don’t want to get married.”

Haidrul paused moments before dipping his fingers in the mixture that would need to be spread upon her body. Frowning, he answered, “You don’t need a reason.”

She took a deep breath. “I don’t, I’m not – I’m not interested in men. The way I should be.”

“Should you be?” Haidrul asked. Honestly, such matters had always confused him. Perhaps it was because his upbringing had been unconventional compared to most others in the village – men were mostly extraneous when it came to witches’ powers. They did not inherit the special connection to the afterworld, and they rarely learnt any of the other related skills to make themselves useful.

Haidrul had been an exception, but then again, he’d never had any sisters.

Aulia sighed. “You know what it’s like,” she said, “as soon as the girls start growing tits and the boys grow stubble, it’s all, ‘oh, he’s so handsome, so strong, I hope to marry him or someone like him one day.”

“I see,” Haidrul answered. He wanted to get on with what they had come here to do, but he could tell this was important to Aulia, so instead he tried and fumbled for the right words to say. “I didn’t know. That people spoke like that.” The experiences Aulia had outlined was foreign to him, but he’d kept to himself at school, unlike Aulia, who’d always been popular.

Meanwhile, most of Haidrul’s time had been divided between her or with his family and their work.

Aulia arched an eyebrow. “Why did you think people got married, then?” she asked.

Honestly, he hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought. “Because two incomes are better than one?” He shrugged. “My mother was never married, you know.” It hadn’t been seen as a necessity.

“But that’s different,” Aulia countered, now crossing her arms defensively across her chest. “She has a profession – a position worthy of respect. She can support herself.”

The suggestion spilled out of him before he could consider its consequences. “So could you.”

She snorted. “With what skills? All I’m good for is lifting things.”

“That’s not true,” Haidrul said gently, sadly. Was that really the way she saw herself? Carrying the jar with him, he crossed the room so he could lay a hand on her bare shoulder. “Just because your father never took you on as an official apprentice doesn’t mean you didn’t learn his skills.”

“But who’s going to want an unproven blacksmith?” asked Aulia.

“I’ll always buy your knives,” he assured her, and uncaring of the fact she was half-naked, he wrapped his arms around her in another hug, and this time, she actually hugged him back. It surprised him because Aulia was always better with her words than physical affection, but maybe the strangeness of the situation called for some comfort.

“You’ve truly never thought about it at all? Getting married, having children, passing on our knowledge onto the next generations? What are you going to do when, when—” Her voice wavered and she fell silent. Nonetheless, Haidrul couldn’t help but hear the words that went unsaid. _When your mother dies._

He had different answers for each of Aulia’s questions, not seeing them all as intertwined as she so obviously did. His fingers rubbed soothing circles over her shoulders. “I haven’t.” He’d always thought that these thoughts, desires, would come to him when the time came, but perhaps such a time would never arrive. “Having my own flesh-and-blood children is not necessary for passing down my knowledge.” When he thought about it, heritage and bloodlines had brought him little more than pain. “And I suppose I’ll do more of this, really.” He gestured with the jar before adding thoughtfully, “Not that I’m going to charge _you_.”

“Oh.” He felt her relief, muscles relaxing as he continued to hold her against him. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?” he asked.

She let go of him, then, taking a step back to look him properly in the eyes.

“Make me feel like anything’s possible.”

*

Perhaps it was the several cups of alcohol she’d consumed, but Kamaria found herself wanting to ask more invasive questions. She looked at Haidrul carefully, this elderly man, more wrinkles than skin, and tried to imagine him as a young adult, not just in looks but in manner as well. He’d probably been the type of boy who was old before his time, and now the outside had simply caught up with his soul.

“So, you never married, then?” she asked Haidrul.

He smiled, clearly at peace with his decision. “No. I have my work, and the shop, and my village. I ask for little more from life other than the time to do what brings me purpose, to clear my passage into the afterworld.”

He spoke of the afterworld with a strange sort of yearning, but perhaps Kamaria couldn’t commiserate because she wasn’t old like them.

Aulia thumped him gently in the shoulder, dark eyes twinkling. “And you have me,” she said.

“Oh, yes,” Haidrul agreed. “I could never forget.”

*

The paste of spice and herbs felt strange and tacky against her skin. She’d had to muffle her laughs several times as Haidrul painted the intricate patterns on her chest, his expression one of intense concentration. He frowned every time she squirmed, and it was all she could do to breathe out apologies.

She didn’t want him to think she wasn’t taking this seriously, but after the third or fourth interruption he admonished her gently, resting one of his hands at her waist as though to help her stay in place. “If I don’t get this right,” he warned, “the spirit might go the wrong way.”

“You’d be able to guide it away again, though, right?” Aulia asked, more nervously than she’d care to admit.

“Of course. But if you start causing problems for me, then I really would have to start charging.”

Aulia had to bite back another laugh. Haidrul really was a professional, in every sense of the word. Sometimes she envied him for his quiet determination, the way he navigated the world as if he was sure of his place in it, never doubting himself except for when the gossip of his cousins reached his ears, the only thing that could truly make him angry.

Eventually, he was done, taking a step back and looking at his handiwork with satisfaction. “That should do,” he said, before reaching out with an upturned hand. “Pass me the amulet before you redress so I may prepare it.”

Finding herself too curious to ask any further questions, Aulia removed the necklace and handed it to Haidrul. She watched him start to drip it in the second concoction he’d prepared, running his fingers rhythmically over it and saying some words in what must be the old tongue. She felt her cheeks burn at the realisation. Witches were usually more private than this.

But Haidrul was no witch.

He looked up at her, as though he’d sensed her watching, caught her gaze, and smiled. She quickly found her clothes after that, hoping that the paste on her skin wouldn’t rub off against it too much. It felt securely in place, more or less, but she didn’t relish the thought of having to wash up later.

“I’m done,” Haidrul announced as Aulia busied herself with fixing her plait.

“So soon?” she asked.

“The amulet doesn’t talk back,” he answered, but there was no heat in his tone. Merely amusement. “Here,” he said, getting to his feet. “Turn around.”

“Oh, okay—” Aulia started, but before she could ask him why, Haidrul had reached around her neck and placed the amulet back into position. “Okay. So what do we do now?”

Haidrul paused for a thoughtful moment. How to put this? “That depends.”

“On?”

“If you’re willing to speak with your father.” He cocked his head. “I could use the distraction.”

Aulia’s heart clenched at the thought. All they had done was fight, lately, but … “If it’s the most efficient way,” she told Haidrul, “then I’ll do it. What do you require of me?”

At that question, Haidrul smiled, his usual irritating enigmatic smile. “Just be yourself, Aulia.” He clapped her on the shoulder. “I believe in you.”

He’d half-started pushing her towards the door, but Aulia still had questions. “How will I know if it’s worked?” she asked.

“You’ll know,” he assured her.

And then she was in the hallway, alone. It didn’t make any sense to bring Haidrul with her – that would just invoke a different lecture from her father, and if her limited knowledge of how these things worked was correct, it was their mother they needed to discuss.

She tried to let Haidrul’s faith in her propel her forward. He believed in her, even if she didn’t entirely understand why, and she didn’t want to let him down.

The forges were to the side of the house, set further back from the street than the shopfront where they sold their wares. Aulia often found herself working in the shop on an ordinary day, but her father had reduced the hours she spent there so she could focus on other pursuits.

 _Other pursuits, ha!_ This probably wasn’t what her father had in mind.

Her brothers barely looked at her as she entered the room. If it was hot outside, then it was boiling in here, where the work was being done. She was used to the high temperatures, though. She could ignore it.

She strode to the back of the room where she knew her father was working. Unlike her siblings, he _did_ pause to stare at her, setting down his tools with a question on his lips.

Whatever it was, though, Aulia wasn’t going to wait around to hear it. She gathered all her inner conviction, her strength. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Alone.”

Perhaps if they’d been anywhere else, her father would’ve told her that anything she had to say to him could be said in front of her brothers, too. But it was noisy, and he wouldn’t want to bother their work for yet another argument. “Fine,” he grunted, sweat dripping from his moustache, standing up and leading her outside.

It occurred to Aulia that Haidrul must be busy doing _something_ with her father’s room, not simply waiting around for her return. She wished him strength, but who was she fooling? She needed it more than he did.

Her muscles braced for a fight, which was strange because there was no chance of any potential altercation turning physical. Perhaps she’d just been carrying this tension around with her for months. Perhaps it was something otherworldly altogether.

Once they were outside, standing under the shade provided by the awnings, her father spoke. “What can be so important that you interrupt my work?” he asked.

Aulia took a deep breath, determined to look her father in the eye. “I’m not getting married,” she told him.

The expression on his face hardened, becoming more inscrutable. She half-wished she’d brought Haidrul with her after all. Reading others’ emotions had never been her strong suit. “I cannot force you,” he conceded. “So what is it, then? The army?

She shook her head, set her jaw. “I’m not joining the army either. I’m not going to let them take me like they took Ma.”

Was it her imagination, or did her father’s shoulders sink slightly in response to her claim? What was it? Relief? Guilt? She couldn’t tell. All she knew was that it didn’t seem like anger.

Nonetheless, her father held her gaze. “So, what is it you’ll do, then?”

This was it. Honestly, part of her never expected she’d get this far. Was this all part of Haidrul’s handiwork, or were there other factors at play? She decided it didn’t matter. “I’ll find work. I’ll make myself useful. In the meantime, I can spend more time at the shop.” She couldn’t prevent the bitterness from seeping into her voice at her last suggestion. She’d _wanted_ to help her family, and yet her father had denied her.

“Auli.” His voice was tinged with sadness. When was the last time he’d called her by her pet name? “I need you to know…” His voice cracked, but he continued nonetheless. “There is nothing I regret more than encouraging your mother to join the war efforts.”

Was she hearing things right? Her father had _encouraged_ her mother? To hear him and the eldest of her brothers tell the tale, Aulia had always believed she’d insisted, to the extent of running off away from them. From her. “I never knew,” she said. She wished she could hug him. She didn’t.

“She always believed there was more to life than this little village,” her father said. “I only ever wanted the easiest path for you.”

“I love this village,” Aulia said with more conviction than anything else she had uttered throughout the entire conviction. It was in that moment that she knew whatever life had in store for her, it would be here in Beema. “And I would rather fight to live my life the right way than accept an ill-fitting cage.” There would be obstacles lying in the course she had set for herself, she knew. But she would strive, and eventually, she would find her purpose.

But that would all come with time. For now, she felt the cool metal of the locket heat against her skin.

 _You’ll know_ , Haidrul had said. And he had been right like always.

*

“Huh…” Kamaria said, stifling a yawn. It was very late at night now, far later than she usually stayed awake. If her hosts hadn’t been quite so welcoming, she would have gone to bed much earlier. But the tale appeared to be nearing its end, and she could stay up for its conclusion. “That was easier than I thought it would be.”

“It was a simple cleansing,” Haidrul said, his voice heavy with sleep. “Which is why I chose it as my first job as an independent practitioner.”

Aulia was still the only one among the three who still seemed lively. Where did the old woman store her boundless energy? She clicked her tongue at Haidrul. “And here I thought you cared about me,” she teased.

“A fortunate coincidence,” answered Haidrul, and Kamaria swore she heard Aulia mutter a crude local word for buttocks underneath her breath. “Your mother’s imprint was very strong. That helped.”

Aulia pressed a hand against her chest, where the locket lay beneath her layers of clothing. “It paved the way for what came next,” she agreed.

*

“I still don’t really understand what you did,” Aulia gushed once she returned to her bedroom, “but it worked. You’re right, I _felt_ it.” She thumped a hand against her chest.

Haidrul smiled at her. His little test had paid off after all. Perhaps he would never have all his mother’s powers, but he could do this at least. It would be a simple existence, but he could handle lesser hauntings for people who didn’t want to engage a foreign witch.

“We should let Ma know of your success,” he told her. Pre-empting what he would felt would be the next question, he added, “Try not to wash until after dinner. The longer the pattern stays on your body, the more likely it is to stick.”

Aulia snorted. “I think it’s sticking enough already,” she answered. “And you flatter me. It’s _your_ success.”

“Our success,” Haidrul conceded. He’d gathered up his belongings while he’d waited for Aulia, and he handed her the bag with the mortar and pestle once more. “As you’re good at lifting things.”

It was all she could do to stop herself from poking her tongue out at him like a petulant child. Instead, she accepted the work without complaint. “Once you have your business up and running,” she said, “perhaps you could give me a job. A professional lifter, that’s me.”

“I’ll see what I can do. Shall we?”

Despite Aulia’s protestations, Haidrul left the jar of honey by the door where he’d opened it. It’d be foolish to move it now. It was _helping_. They linked arms and walked most of the way back to Haidrul’s house in a companiable sort of silence, only breaking apart as they came closer.

Something was wrong.

Haidrul’s little cousins were all outside of the house. Usually, they were just inside, causing chaos and gossiping. “Uncle!” one of the oldest called out to him. “We were just about to go and find you!”

Feeling his stomach sink, he found himself asking why.

He knew why. There was only one reason why his cousins, who usually avoided him, would seek him out.

His mother was dying.

Haidrul had known she didn’t have much time left, and yet it shouldn’t have been _now_. Had the curse really quickened in her blood so rapidly?

“Haidrul?”

He heard Aulia calling his name beside him but she seemed far off and distant. He persevered. “Take me to her,” he begged his cousins, and for once, they obliged without the usual barbs and criticisms.

They were mostly silent as they led him down the hallway. He felt Aulia’s presence beside him as well, and he wasn’t sure if he was grateful or scared. His mother had been right. He hadn’t wanted people to see her like this.

Now, it seemed before too long, nobody would be seeing her at all.

The scene before him was like something out of his nightmares. His mother lay in her before him, pale, too pale, a scrying glass in her hand. He was shaken by the surge of rage that rolled through him. He’d told her to stop casting as soon as she’d identified the nature of this curse upon her! Although all were destined for the afterworld, this was before his mother’s time.

She deserved so much more.

His hands curled into fists, and it helped stymie his anger somewhat. Was this why Aulia did it so often? His voice was low, lower than he thought was capable of, as he made his way to his mother’s side. “What have you done?”

“What I had to do,” his mother answered. Her voice sounded like it was escaping her body in all directions. Just like her soul would sooner rather than later. “I had one last spell left in me, and you were right to warn me not to waste it on revenge, my boy.”

“But what did you _do_ ,” he asked again, feeling like he was missing some major part of the puzzle.

“I sought the future, and I saw—” She was interrupted by a series of coughs. Haidrul held one of her hands in his own and was dimly aware of Aulia holding the other. “My purpose is fulfilled. You will have a wonderful future together,” she said, her eyes fluttering shut.

“We’re not—” Aulia protested weakly, but even she was not bold enough to argue with a dying woman.

And then he felt it, weak as his powers were. A hole tore between this world and the afterworld, and his mother was gone.

*

Haidrul was weeping softly, leaning against Aulia’s side. Once again, Kamaria felt like an interloper, even though the old proprietors had chosen to tell this story themselves. She found herself repeating the same old tired platitudes. “I’m sorry,” she said again, much like she had after hearing the fate of Aulia’s late wife.

Aulia spoke first. “The witches of this region tore themselves apart with their feuds. It is… a topic of much pain.”

“It’s happening back home as well,” Kamaria said. They’d had more to start with, so the extinction had taken longer. But the numbers were dwindling, and soon there would be none left at all.

Haidrul spoke up, his voice still soft, “Mother often said there are many different sorts of powers. My only regret is that I did not understand her words before she passed.”

“You have a big heart,” Aulia said, an arm still wrapped around his shoulders. “The biggest.”

“Is that a power of its own?” Kamaria asked, fighting the fluttering of her eyelids that threatened to lull her to sleep.

“Kindness?” Haidrul said, voice low and contemplative. “I like to think it is.”

*

They didn’t talk about the events of that day until after Nurul’s funeral. Aulia wanted to give her friend room to grieve, and hence it was he who broke the silence on the matter as they left the graveyard. The setting sun illuminated the streets in lights of red and orange. Aunty would be at rest now.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Haidrul started as they begun the slow walk back to his house.

“About what?” asked Aulia.

“What Ma said while she was dying. About our future together.”

Aulia felt her face heat up. “Surely she didn’t mean—”

Haidrul cut her off gently. “No, we will never be lovers.” Aulia snorted. “But I was thinking that I’m going to start that business I was telling you about. Minor spells and rituals. My powers might be weak but I can still feel the spirits in our realm, and I want to help redirect them. I can’t send them home. But I can make them useful. And I was thinking you could join me.” Perhaps she took to long to answer, still busy trying to figure out where she fit into this plan, because he ended up shrugging. “It’s an idea, anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow. “And you need me to do the heavy lifting.”

He stopped abruptly. “Auli.” Haidrul said her name as though it was a curse. “You’re always selling yourself short. You can make things from near-nothing. I’m sure if you told your father that you wanted a little time in the forge, offered him a cut of earnings, perhaps, he would be happy to see you have an idea of what you want to do with your life.”

“I’ll have to speak with him,” she told Haidrul. “But if we can make it work, then…” She felt her cheek warm in embarrassment and gratitude. His mother had just passed. She should be the one to comfort him.

“If we can make it work, then welcome aboard,” he said.

“So, just how viable is this venture, anyway?” asked Aulia. “How many spirits are just wafting around, waiting for new homes?”

He never minded explaining these things again, knowing that most people didn’t see spirits and essences as discrete entities. “Ma always said that people leave little bits of themselves behind wherever they go,” he said. “And I can put them to work.” He was good at that, at least, a dedicated student of the old ways.

Maybe that was another one of his powers.

Aulia grinned. “I like the sound of that,” she said. “You and me, enhancing weapons and other household items together.” Her smile faded somewhat as she found herself adding. “That was another reason I was scared of joining the army. I didn’t want to leave you behind.”

“You don’t think I would make a good soldier with my rippling muscles?” he asked.

Aulia laughed. “I’m liking where this is going. Maybe your mother’s right. Maybe we are going to have a wonderful future together.”

“She usually is,” he said.

*

Kamaria didn’t remember falling asleep, but when she woke, she was lying upon a simple mattress, a light blanked pulled over her lower legs. She wasn’t sure how much more prepared she felt for her journey after the events of the previous evening, but at least she had a full belly and the memory of conversing with the charismatic proprietors. Groaning, she rolled over, delighted to find a water jug and cup on the bedside table.

Hydrating greedily, she saw that the drink wasn’t the only item waiting for her.

There was a piece of paper, neatly folded. And next to it… next to it was a shield made out of what could only be dragonscale. Dark green and glittering, it was one of the few materials truly capable of withstanding the warmth of a dragon’s fire, having been wrenched from the beast herself. Beside it, a loose linen outfit, perfect for the weather in the east. She rubbed at her eyes, bidding the last droplets of sleep to leave her so she could read the words upon the note.

With trembling fingers, she unfurled the paper. On it, four simple words were written in large, looping letters:

_It’s on the house – A &H._


End file.
